


So Lost for You (So Tell Me That It's Not Too Late)

by 4ce_in_sp4ce



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur is a sad drunk, Drinking, It's happy in the end I swear, M/M, Misunderstandings, POV Arthur, Regret, alcohol use, and is bad with emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27111616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4ce_in_sp4ce/pseuds/4ce_in_sp4ce
Summary: Arthur knew he'd made the right choice. Kissing Eames had been a mistake, even if he'd meant it at the time. So he'd done the right thing, he knew that. It hurt, though. He knew he'd get over it eventually, but right now? Right now ithurt
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 101





	So Lost for You (So Tell Me That It's Not Too Late)

**Author's Note:**

> for [arthureamesmonth's](https://arthureamesmonth.tumblr.com/post/632258469252235264/this-weeks-theme-is-through-the-years-these) dialogue prompt "Nice to see some things never change" and song prompt Lost by Blake Rose (with some added inspiration from Mr. Brightside by The Killers)

Arthur hadn't intended to run into Eames. He wouldn't go so far as to say he was _avoiding_ him, but he certainly wasn't trying to seek him out or spend time with him outside of jobs. So when he saw Eames seated at a table, chatting with some woman, when he walked into the bar his first instinct was to just turn around and walk back out. There were plenty of bars in the area, he could just go to another one. Eames caught his eye though and flashed him a quick smile, and that complicated things. Leaving without being seen was just him not wanting to make things awkward. Leaving _after_ being seen would just make them more so. 

He nodded at Eames and walked over to the bar. He'd intended to relax a bit after finally finishing the job they'd been on- it hadn't been difficult but it _had_ been time consuming- but he suddenly found himself not in much of a mood to celebrate. He'd just have a drink and then head out. Maybe turn in early for once. He could certainly use the sleep. 

"What can I get you?"

Arthur glanced up. "Whiskey, please."

"On the rocks?"

Arthur nodded and the bartender grabbed a glass. This bar was known for its whiskey, which was why he'd come in in the first place; it was supposed to be good quality but not overpriced, and they even served the particular brand he liked. It was a bit of a whole in the wall place too, so it was unlikely to be crowded or particularly loud. It was honestly the sort of place Arthur would’ve normally loved. They’d still be here a few more days, so maybe he’d come back on another evening to fully enjoy it when he was less tired and in more of a mood to celebrate. Just not tonight.

He nodded again in thanks as the bartender slid a glass in front of him. Eames' laughter drifted across the room and he took a drink. If his brief glimpse when he'd walked in was anything to go by, Eames was on a date. Arthur wasn't completely sure, the woman'd had her back to him and he'd only seen her briefly before turning, but he was fairly certain he recognized her from a job. Another forger, if he was remembering correctly. Maybe that was how Eames had met her. Not that it mattered, of course. Eames could meet people however he pleased.

The whiskey was just as good as he'd hoped. It was dark and rich, with a warm aftertaste, and Arthur was halfway through it before he'd even realized it. He stared at the glass, a little caught off guard. He generally wasn't a fast drinker. He preferred his drinks to be high quality and have a heaviness that lent them more to sipping than anything else, and that was usually how he drank them. The downside of a relatively quiet bar, though, was that it was easy to hear everything around you, and a drink was the best way he could think to ignore the sound of Eames' or his date's laughter. He finished his drink with a grimace; whatever conversation they were having must've absolutely goddamn hilarious by the sound of it.

"Bad day?"

Arthur glanced up, surprised, and shrugged. "Not really."

The bartender raised an eyebrow and motioned to Arthur's glass, refilling it when he nodded. "I don't think I've ever met anyone who drank whiskey on the rocks with as grim an expression as yours after a good day before. And I've served a lot of people."

"Never said it was a good one." Arthur started in on the second glass, trying not to pick up on Eames' words as he said something. It was loud enough that Arthur could hear his voice but just quiet enough that he'd have to strain a bit to make the words out. Which he wasn't going to do. "Just that it wasn't bad."

"I suppose there's a fair bit in between those, isn't there?" 

Arthur didn't answer, just hummed in agreement as he sipped his drink. He tried to focus on the flavour, it really was good whiskey after all and he hadn't enjoyed the first glass as much as he'd intended to, but every once in a while Eames would say something loud enough that his voice would float back across the room over the general background noise. It was stupid of him to get so distracted by it each time, but his brain latched on to the sound regardless. 

The bartender chuckled. "I've been doing this long enough to recognize that look."

Arthur looked up from his drink. Normally he wasn't a fan of chatty bartenders- if he'd wanted conversation he would've gone to the bar with someone- and he wasn't exactly in a talkative mood at the moment, but he supposed the distraction might be nice. It at least might keep him from going through his second glass of whiskey as quickly as the first. "And what look is that?"

"The look of someone who's got another person on their mind."

Arthur frowned. "That's…vague."

"Maybe." The bartender watched him, clearly amused. "But I'm willing to bet I'm right." He picked up a glass and began wiping it down. "Girlfriend?" Arthur rolled his eyes and the bartender laughed. "Okay, definitely not. Boyfriend then?"

"Coworker." 

The man paused, looking up at Arthur with surprise before going back to cleaning the glass. "That certainly complicates things. I can see why you're in such a sour mood."

"You never specified _how_ I was thinking about this supposed _other person_. Maybe I just think he's annoying." Arthur frowned again and took another drink. "And I'm not in a _sour_ mood."

"I'll admit, different people show their emotions in different ways, but most don't show happiness but glowering over a glass of straight whiskey." The bartender set the glass down and moved to the next one. "Must be one hell of an annoying coworker if that's really what's on your mind."

Arthur hesitated. Talking about personal things was generally something he avoided at all costs. The last thing he needed was someone finding out a vulnerability and using it against him, which was a very real threat in the extraction world. The bartender was a stranger though. Someone he'd likely never see again. And even if he did, it wasn't like he existed in the same sphere of the world as Arthur did. He debated a moment longer before sighing. "He's really not. Well, he's certainly a pain in the ass sometimes, but it's more…endearing than annoying I suppose."

The other man raised an eyebrow. "So I _was_ right."

"Hmm." Arthur could hear Eames laughing again. It was his real laugh too, not the polite chuckle he used when he was trying to be friendly or was dealing with a client or coworker he needed to like him. Arthur had always loved that laugh. "We don't…there's nothing between us. Nothing real, at least." There could've been, though. The groundwork for it had been there. Arthur knew that. He wasn't as good at reading people as Eames was, but he'd recognized their bickering for what it was: flirting. Well placed jabs, always sharp enough to get a response but never sharp enough to actually hurt, that had even developed into a few inside jokes over time. There were very few people who knew Arthur well enough- or long enough- to have anything like that with him. "There might've been though, if we'd pursued it." 

"There a reason you aren't?"

"Relationships…aren't a good idea in my line of work. They don't last. And dating a coworker is a _particularly_ bad idea. Dangerous, even." They were still tempting though. He took a sip, thinking back to the job in Bishkek a few months prior, when things had gone to shit without warning. When, in the midst of being shot at, the midst of all the adrenaline and fear and excitement, he'd forgotten all his carefully developed and maintained rules about no relationships. "We kissed. Once. It could've been more." Arthur finished his drink, grimacing. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why he was telling the bartender this. Maybe it was the alcohol. Or maybe he just didn't have anyone else to tell. "I said no, though. Told him it was a mistake. Because it was. I know it was, even if…even if I meant it at the time. And I know I was right to do that." He shrugged, trying not to let too much bitterness creep into his voice. "Doesn't mean I don't regret it though."

The bartender watched him for a moment before refilling his glass a third time. "This one's on the house." 

Arthur nodded in thanks again, glad when the bartender didn’t continue the conversation. He was starting to feel the effects of the first two drinks now; if he kept going at this rate he'd end up properly drunk before too long. The job was done though, so he supposed it didn't really matter. He could afford to spend the next day hungover. He started in on the third drink, quickly drifting off into his own thoughts. He _did_ regret it, saying no. He regretted it every time he heard Eames laugh or saw him smile or was met with a short, pragmatic answer where he used to be met with a witty comeback. Because he liked Eames. He liked him a lot. And, as much as it'd been a bad idea, he'd meant that kiss in Bishkek. When Eames had asked him to dinner afterwards it'd been so tempting to say yes. To forget _why_ he avoided relationships and didn't date coworkers and just go to dinner with Eames like he’d been wanting to do for months. But he hadn't. Instead he'd told Eames it was a mistake, that he hadn't meant it, that he preferred to be alone, and pretended he didn't see the hurt in Eames' expression before he covered it up with the polite chuckle that was so different from his real laugh. 

It occured to Arthur after a few minutes that he hadn't heard anything from Eames or his date in a little while now. Given how grand of a time they'd clearly been having, the silence probably meant they'd left. Arthur took a long drink, not even bothering to try and focus on and enjoy the flavour anymore. His thoughts were fuzzier and less clear now that the alcohol was really starting to hit his system, but they drifted back to Eames nonetheless, regardless of where he tried to direct them. His date had obviously gone well. Arthur could imagine them walking their drinks off together, maybe down by the river; the weather was nice out this evening, and Eames had always been a fan of taking walks. Maybe he’d walk her back to her place. Tell her he’d had a good time, ask her out again. Maybe she’d invite him up. Maybe he’d say yes.

Arthur took another drink, gripping his glass tightly. He shouldn’t feel jealous. Eames had asked him out, given him the opportunity to be in that position, and he’d said no. He’d lost the right to be jealous when he’d done that. It was better this way, he knew that. Even if it wasn’t the job, something would’ve happened eventually. Something would’ve come between them or Eames would’ve decided Arthur was too difficult or that his feelings for Arthur weren’t as strong as Arthur’s were for him and that would be it. And Eames deserved to be happy. He deserved someone who made him smile and laugh, and Arthur knew he wasn’t that person. He couldn’t be. But he couldn’t help the stab of jealousy in his chest as he thought of it being someone else. He’d get over it eventually, but right now? Right now it fucking hurt.

“Wondered if I’d still find you here.”

Arthur looked up, startled. He’d been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard Eames come up behind him. He shrugged and turned back to his drink. “Not really anywhere else for me to be.”

There was a slight slur in his speech- more than he’d expected- and Eames raised an eyebrow as he sat down at the bar next to him, nodding at Arthur’s mostly empty glass. “How many of those have you had?”

Arthur shrugged again. “This’ll make three.”

“You eat anything beforehand?” Arthur shook his head and Eames chuckled dryly. “Might want to make it your last, then. Otherwise you’ll wake up feeling like shit tomorrow.”

“Job’s finished, it’ll be fine.” He took a drink. He knew Eames was right, he definitely shouldn’t have another glass after this, but he probably would anyways. “Surprised to see you back here.”

“Well, I couldn’t just let you sit here and drink all alone, looking all depressed.” Eames eyed him. “Especially not with how much you seemed to be throwing back.”

“I’m fine.” Arthur stared down into his glass. “I don’t need you to check in on me.”

Eames frowned and Arthur bit back a grimace. His tone had come out a little harsher than he’d intended. “You’re in a bit of a mood.”

“Just tired, that’s all. Wasn’t exactly expecting company.” He took another drink; it wouldn’t be long before he finished it. “It was a long job, thought it’d be nice to be alone.”

“Hm. Nice to see some things never change.”

Arthur winced. It was probably best to end this conversation before he said something else he regretted; he was sure Eames wanted to get back to his date, anyways. He kept his gaze fixed on his drink, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach. “You don’t have to stay. I’d hate for you to cut your date short because of me.”

Eames paused, seemingly caught off guard. “Date?”

“You and your friend.” Arthur gestured vaguely. “You were certainly having a good time. I could hear you laughing all the way over here.”

“You mean Rosalie? The woman I was here with?” Arthur nodded. “Oh, no, she's just a friend. We got into the field around the same time and trained under the same forger. It’d been forever since I saw her, so we decided to grab drinks and catch up when we realized we’d be in the same city.” Eames frowned again. “You thought that was a date?”

“Oh.” Arthur blinked, suddenly feeling stupid and a little embarrassed. “I…well…it _looked_ like one, and you were laughing and seemed to be having a good time, I just thought…” He trailed off, not really sure where he was going.

“Wait, were you _jealous?_ ” Eames stared at him. “Is _that_ why you’re sitting over here looking like a miserable bastard and acting all pissy? Because you thought I was on a _date?_ ”

Arthur groaned. “No, I was just…I’m not…”

“Arthur, what the hell are you jealous of?” Eames almost sounded angry. “You made it _very_ clear that you have no interest in dating me, so why-”

“Of _course_ I want to date you!” The words were out of his mouth before he realized it and Arthur knew he should shut up before he made things worse, but he’d had just enough to drink that the words wouldn’t stop. “God, Eames, do you have _any_ idea how much I like you? I wouldn’t have spent months flirting with you if I didn’t. Wouldn’t have _kissed_ you if I didn’t. But relationships are a bad idea in our line of work and it wouldn’t work out and I don’t…I don’t want to have something with you only for it to not work out because that’ll just hurt more. It’s easier if I just pretend like I’m not head over fucking heels for you and let you find someone else to be happy with.” His inhibitions finally caught up with his words and he snapped his mouth shut, dropping his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fuck. Never mind, forget I said anything. I’m just…I’m drunk. Just pretend I never said anything, I don’t…”

“Arthur.” Eames’ voice was serious. “Arthur, look at me.” Arthur looked up hesitantly. Eames was watching him with a careful expression. “Do you mean that?”

“Listen, I’m drunk, you shouldn’t…”

“Don’t bullshit me, Arthur. Do you mean what you just said?”

Arthur hesitated briefly before sighing, looking away. He couldn’t bring himself to lie again. “Yeah. I do.”

Eames was quiet for a moment, but his voice was softer when he finally spoke again. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Because I want you to be happy. You _deserve_ to be happy. And you won’t be that with me.”

Arthur went to finish off his drink but Eames rested his hand on his arm, gently pushing it back down. “I think you’ve had enough for tonight, darling.” He didn’t pull his hand back even once Arthur’s arm was resting back on the bar. “For one of the smartest people I know, you really are an idiot sometimes, you know that? I appreciate your concern, but you don’t get to decide what makes me happy. I do. And I don’t think either one of us has been very happy recently.” He paused. “You can still say no, and if you do I’ll respect that. But, if you want to, the offer still stands to grab dinner sometime.”

Arthur let go of his glass, hand laying limply on the bar. He wanted to say yes. More than _anything_ he wanted to say yes. “What if this ends badly?”

“Then it ends badly.” Eames slipped his hand into Arthur’s. “But I don’t think it will.”

He was smiling softly when Arthur finally looked back up uncertainly. His words caught in his throat at the sight of Eames’ expression. It was wonderful to be looked at like that. To be looked at like that by _Eames_. “I…dinner sounds good.”

Eames squeezed his hand. “I’m glad." After a moment he sighed. "Now let’s get you back to the hotel, yeah? And maybe get you something to eat too."

"I'm not _that_ drunk." He set money on the bar- enough to cover his drinks and leave a sizeable tip- and stood up, frowning as he stumbled slightly. The world seemed to swim slightly around him and he leaned on the bar to steady himself. "Okay, maybe I _am_ that drunk." 

"You had three glasses of what I'm guessing was straight whiskey on an empty stomach, love, of course you're that drunk." Eames' arm settled around his waist and Arthur leaned against him gratefully. Even if he hadn't needed the support- and it was quickly becoming clear that he did- it was still a nice feeling. "I'm going to have to ask you out again tomorrow just to make sure this wasn't a drunken fluke."

"It wasn't." The bartender caught his eye as he and Eames headed towards the door, eyebrows raised. Arthur gave a small smile and a slight shrug, leaning on Eames slightly more as they headed out onto the sidewalk. Less for support this time and more simply because he could. Eames seemed to understand, chuckling and tightening his grip on Arthur's waist slightly. "I can promise you that."


End file.
